


Night Swimming

by Cenea



Category: Take That
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cenea/pseuds/Cenea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the Progress tour, Mark takes a walk along Sunderland beach at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Swimming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PR Zed (przed)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/przed/gifts), [halotolerant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halotolerant/gifts).



It was no good. The dress rehearsal had not exactly been a disaster, but it had hardly gone as smoothly as he’d hoped. Mark knew he was not going to sleep for a good while yet, so he figured he might as well go for a walk. At least at 2am it would be quiet; then again, it was always quiet on Sunderland beach.  
  
That was where he went. Gazing out to sea from the curb of the promenade, Mark watched the lights of the fishing boats, flashes of orange shimmering across a petrol black sea. For a moment, he even wished he was out there on one of them.  
  
 _I’ve forgotten what it’s like to earn an honest living. One that doesn’t involve sleepless nights wondering if a sixty foot robot is going to leave me stranded in its palm like a lemon, or whether I’m going to be able to climb onto a giant pink caterpillar without me helmet falling off. Or if Gaz prefers being an X-Factor megastar to touring, or if Rob’s going to decide he’s had enough, and up and leave me again…_  
  
A chill wind lashed through his thin cardigan and even his scarf, snapping him back to the present and making him notice how the lights of the little boats pitched and reeled on the choppy sea. Mark shivered, although the nerves in his stomach, previously clenched like a tight fist, seemed relax just a little. He wrapped his arms around himself. No. He should to be grateful for his lot in life, although he hardly made things easy on himself…  
  
It was then he saw the dark figure at the foamy skirts of the sea, their grace of step unmistakable. It was Jason. Mark’s heart lurched, although he was hardly surprised. Coming to the beach at 2am was just the sort of thing Jason Orange would do. Mark raised a hand and drew a sharp breath, meaning to call to him, but his voice caught in his throat.  
  
 _He probably wants to be alone. He doesn’t want to listen to me whining on at him now…_  
  
Not only that thought held him back. The sight was enthralling. Jason stopped, pulled his sweatshirt off over his head, peeled off his trousers, and cast them both onto the black rocks by a flag pole. He then strode forwards into the sea.

Mark bit hard into his bottom lip.  
  
 _Nnnng._

Naked Jason Orange wading into the ocean towards a clouded moon -- and now diving forwards into the waves. Yes, Mark was a married man, but beauty was beauty. How could he not appreciate this? His mind flitted back a few hours, to when he stood watching Jason and Howard dancing, the black robed figure skirmishing with the white. Lithe hips thrusting, muscular bodies gyrating. God, Howard and Jason were amazing, moving in tandem even in a dance-off, veering so close that their foreheads touched. The merest brush of Howard’s fingertips against Jason’s hip had been enough to send Mark’s senses into a spin, making him ache in places that made him grateful that his current costume had not been as skintight as some of the others he wore for the show.  
  
 _It’s weird. How can I enjoy watching two people together so much…yet yearn to squeeze myself between them? It’s not that I want to separate them, but…_  
  
Mark pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a second. He must not dwell on his cloying need; it was just too much right now. When he looked up, it took him a few breathless moments to locate Jason, now scarcely more than a speck amidst the waves. He fought to set his mind blank, and told his feet to return him safely to the hotel.  
  
But the desire to join Jason out there, naked and tiny and swamped by the vastness of the universe, proved irresistible.  
  
  
  
He dropped his clothes next to Jason’s, and then called out towards him, hooking his arms tightly about his bare middle. Wind buffeted against him, and the first bite of cold water against his toes made him hiss sharply between his teeth.  
  
 _This is insane._  
  
But what was back at the hotel for him? A sweaty bed, and hours of wriggling and worrying between the sheets? At the very least, the smell of the salt and the feel of the wet sand between his toes brought back happy childhood memories of Rhyll. A swim would take his mind of things, and help him sleep when he did return. And if Jason didn't see him coming, the idea of taking him by surprise made Mark grin.  
  
He waded in till the water reached his upper thighs, and then yelped with heartfelt anguish as the icy waves lapped against his groin. He shuddered to his core; but he was here now, and he could still see Jason, just a few metres ahead of him. Mark dived forward and began to swim, a brisk front crawl.  
  
At first, the experience was just as he imagined it would be. As his body adjusted to the plummeting temperature, the pressure of the water around him felt comforting. As he tipped his head sideways to breathe, he saw the twinkle of stars between the fast-moving clouds. But he didn’t seem to be getting any closer to Jason; in fact, he couldn’t see him at all anymore. Pausing to put his feet down, Mark discovered he was already out of his depth.  
  
“Jay?”  
  
Mark’s hoarse shout seemed faint even to his own ears. No answer. Treading water, he turned himself to face the beach, and between surging waves, he caught a glimpse of the flagpole near the rocks where he left his clothes.  
  
 _Fuck! It's miles away. Okay, so there’s a strong current…but don’t panic, you’re a decent swimmer, and just about as fit as you’ve ever been. All those gym trips won’t have been in vain, and…_

 _OH GOD, THIS WAS A STUPID IDEA! WHAT WAS I THINKING? OH…GOD..._  
  
“Jason…fuck! Jay! Jay?” _What if he’s drowned or something, what if he’s been swept away and….OH GOD!_  
  
Panic swamping his rationality, Mark launched himself forward, no idea if he was swimming further out or back toward the shore. “JAY!” he screamed. A wave broke against him, cold, salty blackness closing over his head as he kicked and flailed; his fingers tangled in some seaweed. Then the next day’s newspaper headlines flashed in front of his eyes. “TAKE THAT STARS LOST AT SEA!”  
  
Mark gulped in a mouthful of foul-tasting water, and swallowed; his lungs began to burn. Clawing wildly upwards, his head broke above the surface and he gasped, striving frantically to keep himself afloat. But he saw no beach, no flagpole, nor even a star. It was just dark, and cold. And he was terrified.  
  
Summoning all his strength, Mark turned again, swimming in the direction he believed was the coast -- oh God, it had to be! – although the current felt a billion times stronger than he was, and he hardly seemed to be moving at all. He kicked harder, and pain split through his lower leg; the worst possible time, his calf muscle cramped. He cried out, but the roar of the ocean in his ears was as overwhelming as the pain. And then the water sucked him down.  
  
  
  
At first, Mark didn't even realize that somebody had caught him. Agony and terror had sapped the last of his fighting spirit, and everything faded fast. But then he breathed, dragged air into his lungs that felt as heavy as grit. His face was above the surface – just – and somebody was holding onto him, their thick forearm clamped across his chest. Mark grabbed at them, scarcely comprehending what he was doing, nearly shoving his salvation away.  
  
“For fuck’s sakes, Mark.”  
  
The gruff voice was unmistakably…Howard. Shock lashed into Mark with the breaking of another wave. He swallowed yet more water, flailing weakly.  
  
“Kick will ya?” yelled Howard, reiterating his hold about him before they were ripped apart by the buffeting sea. Bewildered, Mark obeyed, gripping Howard’s arm, pressing his back against his sturdy chest, but his leg was still hurting like hell, and it didn’t seem like he was contributing much. Fortunately, Howard’s powerful kicks seemed to be dragging them both towards the shore. Somehow, someway, Mark found himself clinging around his band-mate’s neck. Howard cradled him in his arms as he strode through the shallow surf and onto the safety of the sands.  
  
Howard lowered him gently to the beach, and Mark rolled onto his side, choking the sea-water from his lungs. Trembling violently, he became faintly aware that there was more than one set of hands upon him, soothing and stroking him, and then pulling him into the embrace of a soft, dry towel.  
  
“D…Dougie…J…Jay?”  
  
“Yeah, he’s here too,” mumbled Howard. “Two stupid buggers on one beach.”  
  
“Do we need to get you to a doctor?”  
  
Jason’s smooth tones seemed to melt away the sharper edges of Mark’s pain and shivers. He realized he was being settled into a sitting position, wedged between the two of them. Jason touched his cheek, urging Mark’s gaze to meet his; from behind, Mark felt himself being hugged ever tighter, Howard’s strong heartbeat reverberating through them both. Snug in the middle, Mark drew up his leg, rubbing the still tight calf muscle.  
  
“N…no. I’ll be alright. It’ll only get in the bloody p…papers…and…it were only c…cramp.”  
  
“Dunno about that. Let’s decide when we get back to the hotel.”  
  
The journey back passed in a bit of a blur, but then Mark obediently drank Jason’s weird herby tea, and countered all his concerned questions with just enough pale but reassuring smiles to find himself exactly where he wanted to be: in a warm bath, with Jason perched on the edge. His band-mate wore the tiniest of towels wrapped around his waist, quietly apologized that he’d nearly got them drowned, and then said nothing at all. He didn’t even laugh at Mark’s lame attempt to make a joke about those tragic newspaper headlines, instead regarding him thoughtfully through flickering lashes. Then he reached out and stroked Mark’s shoulder with those long, sensual fingers, which sent silky warmth trickling to Mark’s very core.  
  
 _Fair enough,_ thought Mark. It wasn’t actually a very funny joke. He grinned anyway. Of course, Rob would have laughed at it, if he’d been there. He was still glad he wasn’t.  
  
And then he was in Jason’s bed, toasty and happy, snuggling up between him and Howard. He had no capacity left to worry now, not about anything; the sensation of two large, muscular bodies sliding to rest against his slender frame was just too good.  
  
The only shame, mused Mark wearily, was that sleep would come so quickly now. Jason dropped a kiss to the top of his head. Warm breath caressed the back of his neck, and he heard a low snore. Howard was already asleep.  
  
“I didn't think he came to watch me every night,” said Jason at last, his voice muffled in Mark’s hair. “I reckon he followed you. You know, there’s no need to worry about anything, Markie. Whenever you really need someone, he’ll be there. We both will.”  
  
 _But will Rob be? And will Gary want to write songs with an idiot like me when he’s Lord Barlow of Frodsham?_  
  
The silly whispers in Mark’s soul rang hollow. He fell into a deep sleep almost instantly, his cheek pressed beneath the crook of Jason’s neck, and Howard spooned behind him.  
  
Robots, caterpillars…Rob, Gaz. Whatever. Some things, some people, Mark knew he could rely on.  
  
  
  



End file.
